


An Unusual Hobby

by SuhailaUniverse



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Fraser's Ridge, Inception fic, Set in the book!Verse Post MOBY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9628970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuhailaUniverse/pseuds/SuhailaUniverse
Summary: As Claire and Jamie prepare to turn in for the night, they accidentally stumble across letters Marsali's written to Bree. They soon find out, Marsali's found herself a new and rather cheeky hobby.





	

The house still rang with the laughter of their family as Claire and Jamie made their way to bed. Jamie as usual was doing the rounds, making sure every window and door was bolted for the night, Claire slowly following close by. He’d been everyone else’s tonight; his sister’s to playfully argue with, his daughters to spoil, his sons to discuss day to day life on the Ridge. Even the grandchildren all wanted some time with their grandda. Now Claire was loathe to spend any time apart. She loved - as he did, she knew - seeing him surrounded, smothered by them all, but now, he was hers alone to do with as she pleased; she missed her husband - not that he gave her much time to indeed miss him _that_ much.

They’d all decided to spend the night at Young Ian’s cabin, with Fergus and Marsali’s visit coming to an end soon, they wanted to keep the night’s festive atmosphere going, and the kids were all still fizzing with unrestrained energy. So the big house finally stood silent, and Claire and Jamie’s for the night. Jamie finished checking the window in his study - the only light that of the solitary candle Claire’d been holding - he noticed Bree’s journal on his desk.

“Och, the lass’s gone and forgotten her wee book. Shall I bring it to her, d’ye think? I’m sure they havena gone far yet,” he said, grabbing it off the desk. As he did, a few pages fell to the floor.

“Not to worry,” Claire said, swooping down to pick them up. “They’ll be back up here tomorrow.” She noticed the handwriting on one of the sheets wasn’t Bree’s, but Marsali’s.

‘ _Dearest good-sister_ ,’ it began. Quickly scanning the sheet, Claire was struck by the informality of it. Unable to stop herself, she read on more precisely.

> _  
>  _
> 
> _Dearest good-sister,_
> 
> _I’ve been most taken by the conversation we shared last week in regards to the many books you’ve read, with which you described in such vivid and fervent detail. So overcome indeed, I haven’t been able to think of much else! I have been taken over by a most provoking muse and the urge to write has been most powerful. So, last night, after I had put the children to bed and Fergus had long fallen asleep, I stole out of bed and wrote a wee something for you. Mayhaps it will harken back to some of the novels you spoke of._
> 
> _Yours with love,_
> 
> _Your good-sister, Marsali._
> 
> _Post-script: To say this is for your eyes alone would be a most gross understatement!_
> 
> _  
>  _

Claire stood transfixed. She’d been so absorbed, in fact, she hadn’t heard Jamie speak till he gently put a hand on her shoulder.

“Is something amiss, Sassenach?” he asked tentatively.

“No, not at all. Just… _curious_ ,” she said distracted, as she flipped to the next sheet.

“Ye shouldna be reading that! They are Bree’s private thoughts, no?” Jamie said, but she could sense his curiosity had been piqued by her own.

“It’s something Marsali’s written, I’m just wondering what could have been so—oh…”

“Oh?” Jamie tried reading the sheet in her hand over her shoulder, but she immediately folded it.

“It’s nothing!” she said hastily, hoping he couldn’t see her flush in the candlelight. But, as always, he was too tuned to her that he needn’t have looked at her glass face at all. Still holding the candle, she tried to stuff the letters back into the journal one handed, but Jamie, taking advantage of her awkward grip, snatched them faster than she could have imagined.

“No! Jamie, you can’t read that! Honestly, its most private,” she helplessly exclaimed. But he’d already read the first sheet and had flipped to the second before she’d finished speaking. 

“If ye didna want me reading it, ye shouldna ha’— _oh_!”

“Oh,” she replied dryly.

Even in the dim light she could see the blush rising under his collar, the tips of his ears flaming. She knew he’d read stories like this before, but was sure the shock came not from the words, but from the author. His moment of disbelief was enough distraction for Claire to snatch the sheets back - _well there was no going back now_ , she thought, _might as well finish it_. She began reading out loud, amused, much to Jamie’s discomfort.

  


> _Mr. Darcy stole from his chamber, having given up any attempts of getting any sleep. He was restless. He was irritable. And he burned most fiercely. His thoughts of Elizabeth filled him with fire and he roamed aimlessly through the cold, dreary halls, trying to quench his fiery need, yet knew there was but one cure._
> 
> _He found himself outside Elizabeth’s door, the soft light of her candle visible beneath the crack of her door…_
> 
> _  
>  _

 And so Claire read on as Mr. Darcy uncontrollably slipped into Elizabeth’s bedroom to find her in nothing but shift, hair loose, cheeks flushed at the appearance of her midnight visitor.

  


> _…Elizabeth felt the heat rise within her, her nether regions tingling pleasantly at the thought of Mr. Darcy undressing her further with his eyes. His member twitching in his breeches in greeting. She played such coquettish games, moving from bed to dresser, just out of reach, Mr. Darcy all the while moving in earnest towards her, finally forcing her to vault over the bed to the window-_
> 
> _  
>  _

Jamie snorted at _that_ particularly acrobatic bit; Claire ignored him and read on.

  


> _-The room filled with the musky smell of arousal, both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy sensing the change in the air. There was no going back from that point._
> 
> _“I burn for you most ardently,” Mr. Darcy gasped, undoing the fly of his breeches, his member strained for freedom, demanding attention._
> 
> _Elizabeth felt dizzy, the unaccustomed rush of arousal weakening her knees. The secret space between her legs engorged and slippery. A flush rose in her cheeks as she stared at Mr. Darcy, naked and ready before her, awaiting her acquiescence._
> 
> _She moved, hypnotized, toward the armchair by the window. She settled back, unable to take her eyes from him, lest he suddenly disappeared, fearing this being naught but a dream. “How long I’ve desired you, Mr. Darcy? How long I’ve yearned to feel your lips against those secret parts of me,” Elizabeth whispered. She rucked up her shift, exposing her hidden lust, draping her legs up onto the armrests, opening herself to him._
> 
> _Mr. Darcy breath caught in his throat, seeing her exposed so. Ready. Waiting. He stepped forward, seeing the muscles of her inner thighs tremble in anticipation. He fell to his knees before her, hands tracing her legs. His mouth was dry and he licked his lips, his breath shallow. “A taste first,” he said, bringing his mouth to her nether region. “I must!”_
> 
> _Elizabeth felt his tongue-_
> 
> _  
>  _

 “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me! It just stops! Is there another page?” Claire asked, Jamie at once already searching the floor for the next part. Clearly he’d been just as carried away as she’d been. “Nay, I dinna see another!”

“Perhaps in the journal?” she suggested, but a quick investigation yielded nothing. “She can’t have sent it incomplete, surely?” Claire said exasperated.

“I dinna ken,” Jamie shrugged, “but I must say, yon girl has quite a way wi’ words, aye,” he cocked a suggestive eyebrow at Claire that went straight through _her_ nether regions, sending shivers down her spine.

“She most certainly does,” she replied primly, tucking the sheets of paper neatly back into the journal, avoiding his gaze entirely.

He came up behind her, wrapping his arms about her waist. “D’ye maybe think it’s things she’s-” he stopped abruptly, the thought having gone a wee bit further than he would’ve liked.

“No,” Claire said firmly. “Besides, I hardly want the imagery of Fergus and Marsali quite in _that_ way.” The thought of Fergus and Marsali’s encounters weren’t really something either one wanted to dwell on for too long. So as a means to distract him - and _herself_ \- Claire turned in his arms and wrapped her own round his neck. “ _You_ on the other hand…” she teased. Her hand ran down the front of his shirt, then lower down.

“Aye, well. I canna imagine much of anything else wi’ yer hand where it is, Sassenach.” He bent down and kissed her, slowly, thoroughly, his own hands finding and cupping her perfectly round bottom, just as her hand found its way neatly beneath his kilt.

After what seemed a rather long time later, they finally broke apart, breathless, but mightily roused. “ _She_ may not have finished it, but we certainly can,” Claire said, with a firm and unrelenting grip on his cock, she steered him out of the study and up the stairs.


End file.
